Thoughts of a Predator
by Amethyst Nighthut
Summary: [G1] The thoughts of a predator, of the Predacon Leader, Razorclaw.


Thoughts of a Predator

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters portrayed nor talked about in this story. They are the property of their rightful copyright holders.

* * *

It was quiet. This forest was too quiet. Damned planet and its beasts. One of these days it will be more than worth my time and effort to completely incinerate each and every last inch of this planet AFTER me and my team rid it of all the beasts in our own ways. Mmmm yes... that would be just perfect.

That hardly changes the fact that it was too damned quiet for my liking. At least, for my more logical, cold calculated processor. My gut instinct, or rather my animal instinct, tells me to ignore it and prepare to strike, that there is nothing out there that is more powerful than I. At least, in the area that isn't going to try to kill me before I kill it.

But, my processor replies, our prey is not such a simple fool as to not notice the lack of noise out here. He didn't get his position by pure luck alone. He has some kind of gift and instinct. He won't be taken by surprise so easily.

"You didn't freeze up again down there, did you?" A voice called over my intercom, interrupting my internal argument.

Personally, I was glad. It was taking up valuable processing power.

"I'm fine Divebomb. Unlike you or the others, I can actually keep still."

"Yeah yeah, I know. Why don't you just let me loose then? There's a moose on a mountain just 30 miles away that's just begging for me to shoot up. Come on, you know I'll be there and back before he gets here."

I could sense the same apprehension amongst the others. They were getting angsty and wanted action. Unlike I, they relied more on their animal instincts than their processors. Then again, more often than not, my processor and my instinct agreed on the right path and timing. I guess that could make me unique among my kind. I think it just makes me more suited to lead.

"Damn it Razorclaw! Stop waiting and just let us do what we do best!"

"You will cool it, Tantrum, or I will personally come over there and make you."

There was a loud snort, and the sounds of birds flying off and chirping. For a while I wondered if our position amongst the trees and foliage was compromised.

It has been, cried my instincts. Go out and hunt him down and take him out now before he gets away! There isn't any other choice.

"Divebomb, report." I said over the radio, my processor winning out this time.

"What? You want me to go out? Yeehaw! Watch out skies!"

I mentally growled as Divebomb quickly took off for a quick scouting run. I wasn't going to worry about him being spotted before he spotted anything.

"Hey Razorclaw. Me and Rampage are going to head out and take out a few trees, maybe some of the wildlife..." The voice belonging to Headstrong said over the radio.

"Negative. You two will stay put! We are not going to start causing trouble now, not when our prey could be close." I quickly replied.

I could sympathize with them, however. This was starting to drag out longer than I would have liked. Maybe we should lure him out here with some carnage. Just like the rest of his kind, destroying even this pathetic patch of land would get him rushing to stop us.

"Razorclaw! There's a shuttle headed this way!" Divebomb reported.

Smirking as the bird returned to his position, I involuntarily let out a growl. My primal side was ready and eager for action, mayhem... to sink my teeth into my prey's throat and tear it out.

"Predacons, to your positions, now!" I called out.

I mentally chuckled at my own words. It sounded almost like we had a plan for what we were about to do. No. We are to ambush our prey in this forest. It was up to the Decepticons to get them to come here.

The Decepticons... they rely too much on their own cold, calculating processors. There were times when it seems like they were inflexible. To focused and hard coded to follow a singular plan, even if it was failing. Most of them were even more impatient than my own Predacons, and they want to go about and cause chaos and destruction all the time.

That's when I realized something seemed off.

"Rampage! Report in!" I barked into the radio.

A few seconds later I hear a growl in reply. That satisfies me enough. I don't expect Rampage to speak, just fight. He has yet to let me down in that regard. None of them have.

That's due to our instincts, our animalistic rages and yearnings. If there is anything that I've learned to predict, learned to count on, its that instinct. The one thing that separates me from the machines. Separates us Predacons from the machines.

We may be metal, but our laser cores are the raw harnessed fury of the animals we are. The Decepticons may claim its our programming, but no. This clarity is something that is only attained by true animals.

That thought alone comforts me, even as I lie in wait for my prey. Even as I lie in wait for the Autobot leader, Rodimus Prime.

And that is when I see him. Rodimus Prime in all his red and yellow glory, walking around cautiously, expecting an attack.

I wait, though. My processor is in conflict with my instinct. This causes me to remain still, and the rest of my team to slowly start to get restless. My processor wants to call the strike now and combine into Predaking, force Rodimus Prime to react and die. My instinct wants to tear his throat out and watch as his vital fluids drain out slowly. Both sides appeal to me equally.

Then I see it. The moment that I was waiting for. The moment to strike. Rodimus had turned away from me. The time was now.

"Predacons, attack!" I scream as I leap from my hiding spot at the young leader, my instinct taking over.


End file.
